


What was I going to say again?

by vizarding



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice Society of America (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Humiliation, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4708211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vizarding/pseuds/vizarding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albert is having some conflicting thoughts while staying in Khandaq, and thinks, maybe these thoughts could be relieved by speaking with his friend. When he goes to Adam's room, it's... not what he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What was I going to say again?

Albert walked the tall, empty halls of the palace. It was such a spacious place, he found himself tripping over himself as his eyes tried to take in all the information around him. It didn't matter how many times he walked the same track to Black Adam's chambers, he always noticed a new tapestry, or some sort of intricate detail of the wall carvings, or even just a new crack in the floor. He'd manage to memorize that one place where the rug on the floor crimped up. Too often had he met his foot into the bump, and then his chin would meet the floor.

He felt proud of himself taking a long stride over it and managed a grin— then it fell almost moments later. He was swelling with such pride for _not tripping of a rug_. He's a grown man, such ridiculous things shouldn't— ugh.

The weight of the happenings of Khandaq were weighing heavily on his mind lately. He found himself second guessing again. Always second guessing. Perhaps it was easier to worry over the state of the floors than the other things he's been stepping on those past few weeks.

At least the place was becoming brighter. The people truly loved them, and there seemed to be optimism abounds. Adam seemed content as he was restless. Maybe it would help if he could get a nights' sleep without being ripped awake. Ray Palmer may be gone but the voice was still there. Why was it so hard to convince himself this was the right thing to do? He was so sure before.

Adam was not wrong. He was sure of that.

Just…

He'd hope to talk to the man and not offend him with the thoughts swirling his head. He just needed to talk to someone, and with Alex and Hank gone, and Norda still… the way he was. Adam was the last one to speak to.

The halls darkened around him, the lamps put out leading to their master's bedroom. He found the door to Adam's chamber's cracked open slightly, shedding a sliver of light streaking over the wall opposite. Not completely odd and he was about to open it when--

"Ah!"

His eyes shot up, peering into the room. It was mostly undisturbed, Adam's uniform strew in what appeared to be the path between the desk and his bed and then— Albert's eyes halted. Laying at the foot of the bed, legs hanging off with toes curling at the door, nude— completely nude (was there any other type of nude, Albert?), and sweating and moaning and stroking himself. The redhead caught the other of Adam's hands playing with his nipple, his head thrown back and neck exposed.

Breathy moans.

Hot, breathy moans and mewls and cries strained from Adam's throat as he counted to stroke his erection, standing so tall and proud and in such clear view of his cracked open door. The free hand slid other places, feeling down Adam's throat, a husky groan rolling from his lips, trailing down the rabidly rising and falling chest, giving a squeeze to his own thigh as his feet could barely keep ground as his back arched.

What.

What was going.

Albert brought up a hand to his mouth, trying to keep whatever sort of confused sound was going to come out. It was obvious _what_ he was doing and well— why do you need a why? But why was the DOOR open? Had he been. Had he just been so quick to rip off his clothes he couldn't even close the door— or get on the bed all the way?

Another loud moan.

Albert felt himself getting hot, a pit of fire igniting beneath his waistline— isn't that poetic for popping a boner. Well, not completely. It was only a bit of arousal, but a thick gulp could not do anything to swallow the lump in his throat. He found himself leaning closer— but no, no, he shouldn't. This is wrong. This is creepy. He should just come back later and.

And oh god Adam's exposed neck.

He bit his lip hard as he began touching himself, kneading his own crotch. It hurt and burned and the guilt washed over him in droves but he just couldn't look away. He couldn't leave, not this one time he'd see… what exactly did he want to see? What was so important?

Right.

It's not like he hadn't been fantasizing about that lately. It came out of nowhere and he— he's never really been attracted to a man before. The first time he'd thought of Adam while getting off, he cried to himself for a long time, not really sure why he was so upset. A shower really didn't help wash away the feeling of self pity. That was another factor of confusion that was stressing him out lately that he chose not to think about until the dark hours of the night where he'd have time to himself and just let himself, for a moment, enjoy the thought of Adam—

Adam making those noises. Those vulnerable cries. Vulnerable for Adam, at least. He'd never heard the man gasp in such a way, little inflections of pleasure radiating from every sound— he could hear a smile. God, he wanted to make him make those sounds so bad.

He pushed down his pants, scrunched around his thighs, he was horrid and disgusting but he needed to just have some relief. He'd reached a new low somehow; it was one thing to be thinking about Teth while he was alone in bed and touching himself, but it was another to be watching Teth masturbate and touch himself outside his bedroom.

When did he start calling him Teth.

Adam's hand crept between his thighs, finding a spot that made his hips perk up even more than before, jerking even quicker into his hand. Albert's thoughts flickered. He wanted to be the one to do all of these things. He wanted to shove him against the sheets and-- honestly. Who was he kidding. He's never been with a man before, and the thought of it made him cry like a baby. He'd probably fuck it up somehow, he had no idea how to properly— ugh. He moved from the open door, pushing his forehead to the cool stone wall, continuing to stroke himself. He better get himself off before Teth found him— there he was, calling him Teth again.

He let a thick groan slip through his lips. All he could think of Adam's chest and his panting and those legs. That neck. That exposed neck. He at least knew what he'd do there. He was never one to be rough, but he'll admit… when Lyta would tie her hair back, he would feel so ashamed, glancing at her bare neck. Though there was usually a hickey there from Hector.

Why was he always fucked no matter who he wanted _to_ fuck.

Not that he ever really got the fucking he wanted.

Ugh. Maybe if he could just.

"Hnn." Suddenly his senses shot up and he felt a cold sweat break. Hyper-aware of his surroundings, he saw the light flooding the hallway, and it came to him just who was standing (excuse me, floating, because he was about Albert's height now) beside him, and he. His mouth began to flap, he couldn't even manage to look at Adam before the man spoke again. "You."

Two firm hands found their way to his shoulders and pulled him from the wall— humiliation. That was the feeling washing over him. Burning, sweaty, dizzying humiliation that made his skin crawl. His own actions were making his skin crawl and he felt himself shiver as Adam used those firm hands to push him to his knees. Another thick gulp, this time he felt like his throat was closing. Wide eyes stared up, but he couldn't make out the man's expression. It was shadowed from the pouring light behind him from the bedroom chamber; the light making Albert feel even more exposed.

Another attempt to speak.

"Finish."

What?

Adam's arms were crossed. 

Albert's eyes trailed, finding the shape of a clothe draped around his waist. Oh god, was he trying to look at his--

"Finish what you started." Adam hissed.

Albert's thoughts raced, and he shivered, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. He felt the world spin as Adam told him to _finish masturbating to him while he was standing RIGHT THERE._ He. He couldn't. Could he? But he was. He was waiting. Floating there, looming over him, seeming larger than ever and Albert's face burned red all the way up to his ears. He realized he still had a hand around his cock and he bowed his head, beginning to jerk once again.

It was jilted and awkward and Adam was right there and he could see Adam's bare feet and his ankles and suddenly the thought of kissing his ankles— kissing any of Adam's bare, sweaty skin.

Hard eyes were planted firmly on him from above and for some reason as the mortification set in, so did the heat from below. Adam was _watching him,_ and he was _terrible_ to be caught, and it just made him so _hot_. A small groan bit back here or there, and he really got into the groove. He leaned on his free hand, hips rolling, just going and going and—

he really felt like this should feel wrong and it was, it did, it was heavy on his shoulders, already weighted with so much and yet he wanted it more. Adam's judging eyes only on him. At least he assumed so, when he glanced up he still couldn't see his features. It didn't matter, just his form.

He let out a pathetic moan as he finally came, splattering it on the rug beneath him. He felt weak in the knees, entire body shaking with feeling. Albert wasn't really sure what feeling exactly, but he almost jumped out of his skin as Adam's calloused palm slid onto his shoulder. Was he--

A strong grip pulled him to his feet surprisingly quick.

Albert was aware he was still exposed and hurried to put his cock away; flustered wasn't exactly the right word at the moment.

Now eye level with Adam, he could make out his features— stern and hard, creases lining his forehead. Oh god— he was angry.

Of COURSE he's angry, his mind practically screamed at him. Why wouldn't he be mad? You're a sick freak. He's going to kick you out. He's going to BEAT your faggy little ass to—

Albert flinched when Adam moved, but peaked open an eye to see he was only pointing a stern finger at him. "My body is not for you to use for your own pleasures. Do not think you can do such things without permission."

Again. 

WHAT.

Adam clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Communication, my brother. It builds civilizations— and opens doors."

Adam was touching him.

Even after he did such a thing.

And talking to him? Wait? Opens doors. Does that mean.

And then the hand was gone from his shoulder and the door was closed and the hall was dark and Albert was alone and still very sweaty and very, very, utterly confused. "Clean up your mess," was heard muffled through the door, and he was still staring at where Adam had just been and could still feel that heavy hand on his shoulder.

Coming here really didn't help him at all— nor did cumming on that godforsaken rug.


End file.
